I Hope They Serve Whiskey In Hell (Cause I'm Already On My Way)
by OncerinLoVe
Summary: When the devil shows up at his door to collect on an estranged family member's deal, Robin Locksley finds himself hunting down hell's escaped souls with the help of Regina Mills, a woman with her own debt to pay. And when it comes to their relationship, they're damned if they do and damned if they don't. AKA a Reaper AU with a Hercules twist. Title from Whiskey In Hell by Anarbor.
1. Chapter 1

If the first waking minutes of Robin Locksley's thirties are any indication of how they'll turn out, then this decade does not look promising.

He was supposed to be sleeping the day away but instead it's barely nine and someone is incessantly banging on his door. He has one hell of a hangover which, besides proving without a doubt that his twenties are officially gone, is slowing down his ability to get out of bed and shut the knocking sadist up.

"One minute," he yells, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice as he pulls on the first t-shirt and pair of jeans he can find.

He swings open the door to find a man in an expensive looking suit, instantly confirming that he doesn't live in the building. The man is shorter than him, older too, though there's something about the man making it difficult to tell by how much. He's leaning on a cane, which Robin assumes is meant to affect a non-threatening air. It might, at a distance, but up close the look in the man's eyes gives him away and makes the hairs on the back of Robin's neck stand up. The feeling only intensifies when the man smiles.

"Remember me dearie?" the man asks in a slick Scottish accent, easily making the innocuous words sound threatening.

Robin stands there wracking his brain for the connection until it slams into him like a ton of bricks, making him nauseous reasons entirely unrelated to his considerable late-night alcohol consumption.

After closing at the bar last night his friends, or their band of Merry Men as Mulan affectionately refers to them, gathered there for celebratory drinks. Mulan and Ruby had broken out the top shelf whiskey he's been admiring every shift for as long as he's worked at their bar and the merriment had progressed from there.

Before he knew it one drink turned into several, midnight turned into 2 a.m., and he was parting ways with Will and Ana at Columbia Road to begin the walk back to his apartment. It must have been just as the couple faded out of sight that he stumbled straight into a man he could swear hadn't been there before.

His visual memory is hazy, barely more than the gold glint off the handle of the man's cane. But the chill that came over him on that abnormally dark street is something Robin will never forget. He's not easily rattled, has never felt unsafe in his neighborhood regardless of crime rates, and yet in that moment he was terrified.

He was able to put aside his fear and apologize, but the man simply waved him away. They parted ways and Robin might have written off the encounter had he not heard a gleeful _oh and happy birthday dearie_ come from behind him, only to whip around to find the street completely empty.

The memory makes his heart race, his fight or flight instincts kicking in.

"Who are you?" he asks, fists clenching involuntarily, though Robin has a feeling he isn't in any physical danger.

"Why that is a tricky question. My name is Rumpelstiltskin, though the fairytale takes quite the poetic license," he replies with a wink, apparently unperturbed by Robin's anger. "I've been called many things over the years, but I believe the closest analogue in this time period is," he pauses and Robin's dread only grows," the devil," the man - or whatever he is - finishes with a disturbingly affected giggle.

Robin stands there, open mouthed and desperate to believe the man is crazy or lying even though something inside of him knows it's the truth.

"Aren't you going to let me in Robin? It's a bit rude to keep me out here disturbing all of your neighbors," he mocks, his delivery almost sing-song.

And against all of his better judgments, Robin stands aside, allowing the man - _the devil_ \- into his living room.

Rumpelstiltskin saunters in with a slight limp and Robin is about to close the door when a beautiful dark-haired woman whips around the corner and practically stomps into his apartment.

Her arms are crossed and her lips (red, full, with a scar just above them - none of which he should be noticing given the situation) are pursed in a way that looks almost like pouting. Her absurdly high heels put them at the same height and when she passes their eyes meet for a moment. Hers are narrowed, furious, and yet he can't help the intense stab of attraction.

"Oh now I'm the rude one," he continues, putting extra emphasis on the r. "This is my protégé Regina. You two will be seeing a lot of each other."

Regina - apparently - makes a big show of rolling her eyes like a petulant teenager who's just been grounded. The de- Rumpelstiltskin, Robin decides is the best way to think of the man - in turn makes a show of ignoring her clear lack of enthusiasm like any unamused parent.

"I don't understand. If you really are," he starts and then lowers his voice to a whisper, unable to say the word too loud, "the devil," he raises his voice again, "what do you want from me? I know I'm far from perfect but I don't exactly think my actions warrant your attention," he responds, trying for glib but perhaps the panic he's trying to push down comes through because for an instant he sees something almost like sympathy pass across Regina's face.

"It isn't _your_ actions that brought me here, but your grandfather's. He made a deal and I'm here to collect," Rumpelstiltskin says, suddenly deadly serious.

Robin can't help the laugh that bursts out of him.

"My grandfather was as close to sainthood as someone can get without performing miracles. You must have the wrong man."

His conviction is quickly swept away as the next words he hears teach him that in fact blood running cold is more than just a figure of speech.

"I was referring to your paternal grandfather," Rumpelstiltskin responds gleefully, clearly enjoying the distress he's causing.

"I… I've never even met the man," he sputters out, at a loss for anything else to say.

"But nevertheless you are his blood. You see the family fortune was drying up. As you can imagine, profits from the slave trade could only sustain so many generations of lavish spenders. I was all too happy to help in his hour of need and ensure the prosperity of your family." His tone has been all ridicule until now, but it turns into something much darker as he goes on. "For a price of course. Upon his death the soul of his first born grandchild would belong to me. And as luck would have it," he smiles that bone-chilling smile again, "he was just taken off life support last night."

Robin's head is spinning at the information he's just heard, but the bitter _good_ he mutters upon hearing that the selfish, dishonest, and abusive man who raised his father is gone slips out involuntarily.

The rest of the information takes time to sink in. One moment he's angry and the next it's like no one else is there. Something like grief washes over him with the understanding and all he can focus on is keeping his knees from buckling.

"And if I don't have any interest in cleaning up after that bastard's messes?" he replies when the rest of the room finally comes back into focus, infusing the words with far more bravado than he feels.

Robin doesn't get a response, just a flourish of the - fuck - devil's hands.

The contract appears as if by magic, the gold signature of Thomas Locksley obvious as the document is presented to him. It takes a closer look to find his answer. Printed in small black letters is the stipulation that if the price isn't paid, the debt will be taken on by the subject's closest living relative. And as an only child, it has to be his parents.

He has no choice, he won't allow anyone else - let alone them - to suffer in his place. The only option is to honor the deal.

He takes deep breaths, the kind he learned back when and Marian used to go to yoga, until he doesn't feel so much like punching the devil in the face.

"And what exactly does this debt entail?"

"Don't sound so hostile dearie, I have the perfect assignment for your heroic nature." Robin's skepticism must be written all over his face because Rumpelstiltskin continues with "It's true. Along with the lovely Regina you will be tracking down and capturing hell's escaped souls. Really you'll be protecting everyone from all the nasty habits that got then sent to my domain in the first place," said in a far too cheery tone for Robin to believe that Rumpelstiltskin is actually concerned with the safety of Boston's citizens.

All things considered, it doesn't sound like the kind of seedy work he was expecting, even if he doesn't trust there won't be more objectionable orders coming. Even so, he's hardly qualified to track down anyone who managed to escape hell.

"How?" he asks cautiously.

With another dramatic hand gesture, Rumpelstiltskin produces a collapsed bow and a case of arrows.

"I trust your archery skills haven't faded?" Robin nods, still wary. "Well when you shoot the escapees, they'll be trapped in here," he continues, tossing the arrows to Robin so unexpectedly that he almost doesn't catch them, "until Regina can bring them back to me," he finishes, handing off the bow to Robin.

Before he has the chance to say anything else, Regina finally speaks.

"I didn't do anything to deserve babysitting duty," she whines, most definitely pouting now.

"As we've already discussed, this is not a punishment," Rumpelstiltskin answers sternly.

She carries on like Robin isn't even there, stepping closer to Rumpelstiltskin until their lips are practically touching. Rumpelstiltskin reaches out a hand to grab her chin, stopping her in place.

The grip looks more than tight enough to be painful but as Robin steps towards them to intervene she addresses him for the first time with a terse _this doesn't concern you_. Against his every instinct, he backs off and watches the bewildering shift in the relationship between his two… _guests_.

"We both know my talents would be wasted here, don't we Rumple," she purrs, before violently and audibly smacking his hand away.

"I am well aware of your objections dearie but you forget that I make the decisions here," he snarls back, more menacingly and, well, more like the devil than he has been so far. "Now I have other business to attend to, so I trust you can handle everything else with Mr. Locksley on your own," he finishes coldly, ignoring the hissed _fuck you_ from Regina as he calmly strolls out of the apartment and shuts the door.

Robin lets the bow and arrows drop next to him before collapsing onto the couch, head in his hands, letting the reality of the situation crash into him. He's always been fairly religious but never in a way that believed the devil was anything more than a metaphorical concept. And now he has no choice but to work for the very real devil until he dies and probably spend eternity in hell.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, contemplating it all, but eventually Robin feels a nail poke into his shoulder.

"Please do not take this as any kind of invitation or indication that I give a shit," Regina starts, detached, "but I know this must be a lot so maybe you should find someone to talk to," she continues slowly, as though she's carefully considering each word, straining to blunt her natural caustic instincts. He's about to thank her, but before he can she's already back to haughtiness. "We have a soul to catch and I can't have you moping instead of helping."

She awkwardly pats his shoulder in what he can only assume, contrary to her proclamation of not caring, is supposed to be a gesture of comfort.

When he looks up, Regina is busying herself with putting his new bow and arrows into her large handbag.

He thinks again about offering his thanks but he has a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't take kindly to it.

"So how are we planning to find… well whoever it is we have to find?" Robin asks, realizing at once how little he knows about any of this.

" _We_ are not going to do anything. _You_ are going to give me your number and then _I_ will find out where the soul is. When you're needed to shoot your… _sticks_ ," she says, disdain evident in her voice and the raise of her eyebrow, "I will let you know."

She starts to walk away but he easily blocks her access to the door.

"Despite the fact that neither of us likes it," because really if he's stuck in this situation he would at least prefer a nicer partner, " _we_ will have to work together. So wherever you're going, I'm coming with you," he answers firmly, hoping that he's read her right and that the way to earn this woman's respect is not to kowtow but to stand his ground.

She considers for a moment and ultimately acquiesces with a gruff _don't get in my way_.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replies, mock bowing and making sure she can see the exaggerated rolling of his eyes.

Her retaliating slam of his door brings back his hangover headache with twice the force.

It's only been nine hours, but Robin thinks he can safely crown today as his worst birthday ever.


	2. Chapter 2

They've been sitting in silence for ten minutes, one of the many conditions Regina has put on him coming along. She succinctly listed them out on the way to her car, most of which seem to assume he has the intelligence and self-control of a toddler. By far his favorite provision agreed that if he felt the need to vomit, he should swallow it rather than in any way taint her pristine interior with his bodily fluids. In most of those exact words. The entire rule-setting endeavor puts their partnership off to a bit of a rocky start but he supposes at least there's nowhere to go but up.

Robin would have much preferred walking to slogging along in Regina's Mercedes, but at least it's allowed the advil time to kick in and make him feel something closer to human. Given his newfound ability to actually focus on something other than the pounding in his head, he turns his attention to the woman beside him.

(Or to be more precise, he studies her out of the corner of his eye, lest she notice and dislike him any more than she already does).

Despite her seat being at a perfect 90 degree angle, she's hardly relaxing against it, her back ramrod straight. In fact her entire body is tensed. Even though Robin's the one whose world was completely shaken up today, he's comfortably leaning back into the passenger seat while she looks ready to snap at any moment.

She has one hand gripping the wheel far tighter than necessary while the perfectly manicured red nails on the other are rapidly striking the wheel one by one over and over. Each taptaptaptap seems to prevent the last vestiges of his headache from dissipating so perhaps there really isn't much of an upside to braving the disaster that is Boston traffic.

As a distraction Robin chances a real glance while she's making a left and immediately realizes his mistake. He of course noticed her beauty back in the apartment but she's truly mesmerizing in a way he hadn't realized.

It isn't as though he met Marian and never looked at another woman. He has a very healthy appreciation for attractive women, but this is _more_.

He can't exactly put his finger on what makes her so magnetic. Her dress, despite a slight vee and zipper running from top to bottom lending it a slight sexiness, is hardly different than what any professional woman might wear during June in Boston. She has gorgeous curves that she's hardly hiding away, but that doesn't distinguish her from other equally attractive women. While she's perfectly curated from head to toe, it cannot explain how stunning she is.

She's the furthest thing from his type, with the perfect makeup _or_ the general standoffishness, and yet it takes far more effort than it should to tear his eyes away from her.

Based on her brief display earlier, he's fairly sure of what _talents_ she thought wasted with him. Every man probably thinks they have sexual chemistry with her. So he attempts to reign himself in and not focus on the way she smells faintly like apples.

Shaking off those thoughts, Robin reminds himself why he's here. Although he would be content with the silence, he can't very well go into this situation completely blind. Seeing no other option, he chances speaking.

"So what exactly are these souls like?"

Regina startles when he speaks, jerking the wheel just slightly towards oncoming traffic. They weren't at all close to going over the double yellow lines but his heart still pounds like it may burst from his chest. She doesn't acknowledge his hushed apology, only grips the wheel even tighter.

"I'm sorry," he says again, louder and more clearly this time.

She nods, and loosens her grip just a fraction, though he imagines it must still be painfully tight.

"The same as they were alive as far as I know. That's why they're so hard to track down," she replies flatly to the question he's almost forgotten he asked.

And he hates to be the useless one who has question after question but he has little choice except to ask "and where exactly are we going?"

Her hands return to gripping the wheel more intensely.

"This isn't what I do. I know someone who can find people and someone with experience dealing with souls," she says, irritation plain in her tone.

It's not the straightforward answer he was looking for, but it's enough for now. Robin isn't sure he wants to know what her exasperation will turn into if he keeps pestering. Then again if two questions is a bother to her, he's not sure how they'll be able to work together.

They spend the rest of the ride in silence broken only by her mumbled curses at the other drivers.

* * *

After what feels like forever (but can only reasonably be less than a half hour of honking and standstills), they arrive at a parking garage. He follows Regina, who apparently lacks any desire to tell him where they're going, until they reach a slightly rundown bakery. He's about to once again ask Regina what's going on when he notices the building's second door, with a beat up _Swan Investigations_ sign hanging above it. When he looks back over at Regina, her eyes are narrowed and lips are pursed. Her arms are once again wrapped around herself, though this time it looks far more self-soothing than defiant.

"Is something wrong?" he broaches gently.

She sucks in a quick breath and her eyes narrow even further.

"Miss Swan and I aren't on the best of terms," she admits, the measured words a contrast to the way her nostrils flare.

"Oh I just assumed you were friends," he murmurs unthinkingly, barely aware that the words are coming out at all.

"I don't have friends," she snaps back far too quickly and he can feel his initial distaste for her fading. He can only imagine how lonely someone must be for _that_ to be an automatic reaction. He can't stop his face from falling, which surprisingly seems to convince her to continue. "I was seeing someone and he left me for her. I didn't take it well," she finishes with a poor attempt at nonchalance

He doesn't miss the way her fingernails dig deep into her palms. And it may be his mind playing tricks, but it almost looks like she blinks away a tear.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, "this must be difficult for you."

Robin steps towards her, to do what exactly he isn't sure, but she whips away and starts towards the door with a _let's get this over with_ hurled over her shoulder.

His confidence in the eponymous Miss Swan wavers as they reach the second floor door, the bold black letters of Swan Investigations all at least somewhat scratched if not completely peeled off.

Regina is standing beside him sneering, muttering " _this_ is what he fucking left me for,"in a way that leaves him unsure if she even meant to say it out loud.

"Maybe not your best opening line if you're hoping to get this woman's help," he teases, hoping it's the right move and rewarded by a small (but still, it's something) smile.

Her "okay Dale Carnegie, I know how to win friends and influence people too," is still snarky, but lacks the bite of some of her previous responses.

"Now that's a deep cut," he replies lightly, raising a fist to the door, but waiting for her assenting nod before knocking.

A slightly muffled "come in" is shouted from inside, so Robin opens the door.

The small office is sparse, just a desk with a laptop and half a bear claw on it and some chairs, the only occupant a blonde woman making her way towards the door while wiping crumbs from her tank top.

She gives a guarded smile at Robin as he steps in, eyes looking over him suspiciously. When Regina follows, the woman's smile instantly drops.

"Seriously?" she says incredulously "It worked, Graham and I are over. Can't leave me alone?"

From the there the situation only spirals.

" _I_ should leave _you_ alone? You're the one who decided to take things that weren't yours," Regina replies through gritted teeth, holding on to some measure of control.

"Graham was miserable. So maybe you need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why that was, why he ran away from _you_."

There's an exhaustion to this Miss Swan's tone, as though this is something she's already said before and the anger has somewhat dulled. She's far calmer than Regina, which only seems to fire her up more.

"He only decided he was miserable when you started whispering in his ear," Regina responds, well on her way to screaming.

There's a hysterical edge to Regina's voice, and for all her simmering fury before, now she's boiling over with it.

"Have you ever stopped to think that the problem isn't with me but with you?" The private investigator asks, punctuating each word with a step closer to Regina.

He could almost swear there's actual steam coming out of Regina's ears and given the day he's had, it's not out of the realm of possibility.

"It's like you want me to punch you again," Regina snarls, and it appears to ignite something in the other woman because her next words are far less controlled.

"Yeah as I recall that didn't go so well for you last time," the blonde taunts, hands clenching into fists.

Robin looks back and forth at the two women as they stare each other down with narrowed eyes. Though the tension in the air is thick, he assumes someone will back down until Regina jerks forward. He's gotten in the middle of plenty of bar fights, but none have ever had the viciousness possessed by these two women.

"Okay," he starts in as measured a tone as he can muster, stepping between them to prevent the apparently second physical fight between the two women, "whatever happened is in the past. Right now we," he gestures to himself and Regina, "need your help finding someone."

It's like neither woman remembered he was even present, both wearing matching expressions of shock when he intervenes.

"Oh this your latest victim?' she spits at Regina before turning her next words to him. "She's a sociopath. Don't be surprised when you come to your senses and she harasses you and your next girlfriend until the relationship crumbles."

Even though they're purportedly for him, he can tell the words (even with the pain hidden in them) are really meant as another blow and Regina easily takes the bait.

He reasserts his position between the two women when he hears Regina's _you little bitch_ and sees her begin to lunge towards Miss Swan.

"Clearly your issues aren't in the past," he starts, more forceful this time, "but that's not why we're here. We want to track down," he stops, looking at Regina expectantly as he realizes that she never provided him with that particular bit of information.

"Cruella Feinberg," Regina supplies and his mouth falls open in surprise. She could have at least warned him that they were looking for one of the most famous women in the country.

The private investigator is equally thrown off based the way her eyebrows shoot up.

"The wife of the embezzler who was just arrested by the FBI?"

"No the _other_ Cruella." Robin shoots Regina a warning look, and her tone is more even when she speaks again. "That is the one. Can you find her?"

The blonde takes a moment, probably planning her response carefully.

"Yeah I could figure out where she is but I'm not sure I can trust you with that information when I do."

Her voice is not as harsh as the words might seem to merit, firm but not malicious. The woman is looking Regina dead in the eye, arms crossed, drawing a line in the sand. Regina's lip curls and he is not letting them get sidetracked by another fight. While they're both stubborn, he is willing to bet that the private investigator is slightly less intransigent.

"We were never properly introduced," he starts and both women whip their heads in his direction. "I'm Robin." He puts out a hand and though her expression is wary, the blonde tentatively takes it.

"Emma."

"Lovely to meet you Emma. I know none of this is my business but there are clearly a lot of hurt feelings and resentments here." He gives her a small smile. "And I imagine Regina is someone you never wanted to see again," he begins, remembering exactly how it felt to have Keith Nottingham constantly attacking his relationship with Marian.

Once the words are out of his mouth, Robin pushes aside his own feelings and focuses on his compassion for Regina.

"That's one way to put it," Emma grumbles back and he half-expects Regina to pipe up and destroy the tentative cease fire he's brokered but she's mercifully silent.

They're obviously similar, Emma and Regina, so he hopes drawing the connection won't backfire for either woman.

"I only met Regina this morning but I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual." Emma opens her mouth to speak so he continues before she can. "But she's here despite that because you are good at what you do. I would explain to you why we need to find Cruella Feinberg but you'd think we're crazy," he pleads, and he can see Emma softening with each word.

"I'll find her. But I'm not letting _you two_ find her without me. And my gun." Automatically he takes a step back, nearly bumping into Regina. "Relax, I have a license to carry and I'm more concerned that _she_ might set Cruella Feinberg off then anything else."

Regina has been curiously silent for the entire exchange. He expected her to object to bringing Emma along, if not because she doesn't seem to appreciate his input then at least because she seems to enjoy being contrary just for the sake of it. Instead she takes one of the pens off of Emma's desk and scribbles something on one of the _Swan Investigations_ business cards lying next to it. After she's placed the pen back on the desk, Regina delicately picks up the card between two fingernails

"Call me when you find her and you can expect double your normal rate," she finally says cooly, flinging the card back at Emma and turning away without another word.

Neither he nor Emma says anything as Regina leaves, just listening as the clacking of her heels grows fainter the further she gets.

At some point it occurs to Robin that he'll definitely get left behind if he doesn't catch up now.

"Well thank you Emma, I look forward to seeing you again," he says as brightly as he can while rushing out the door, figuring that since Regina can't muster it, one of them should have some sense of decorum.

"Yeah, you too," she replies slowly, uncertain, though at Regina's abrupt exit or her own agreement to help them he isn't sure.

He jogs down the stairs and out the door, longer legs and practical shoes easily allowing him to fall into step with Regina.

"You could have given me the slightest heads-up that we were leaving back there," he rebukes gently.

"That could have gone worse. Maybe you aren't _completely_ useless after all," she remarks, ignoring his words completely.

There's a compliment buried in there somewhere so his next words are more teasing then condemning.

"A simple thank you would suffice."

Her "well I didn't ask for your help," lacks enough sharpness that he'll call it progress.

They walk in companionable silence for a while, until he realizes they aren't heading back to her car.

"Where to next?"

He's pleasantly surprised when she actually gives a straight answer without a hint of annoyance.

"The harbor. There's a, well you'd call him a demon, I'd call him a disgruntled former employee, who has far more experience with souls than I do," she answers with a smirk.

Given the near miss in the attempt to gain Emma's assistance, he can't help but ask "and how do you know he'll help us?"

"I've known him _quite_ a long time," she says with a little chuckle.

Whatever the joke, he certainly can't see it, but he follows with the natural question she's set up.

"How long have you known him?"

For the first time since they've met, she breaks out into a wide grin.

"Oh 600 years or so."

* * *

Thanks so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

It shouldn't stop him in his tracks, given everything else he's learned today, but it does. Regina continues walking for a block before she notices he's no longer beside her and turns back to him.

"I'm not waiting up for you," she shouts back at him, with hands on her hips and a barely suppressed smirk.

Robin stands there, frozen for a moment more before he's able to comprehend what she's said. Despite her statement to the contrary, Regina doesn't resume walking until he's an arm's length away.

"You can't just leave me hanging like that," he teases, managing with just a slight strain, in an attempt to convince her to explain and to keep himself moving instead of stopping again in shock.

"You aren't the only one with a debt to pay," she says cryptically, giving him a devilish (and for fuck's sake that word is permanently ruined but there's no other way to describe her _cat that ate the canary_ look) smirk. "But at least I owned my mistakes instead of pushing them off on someone else."

It makes sense, all things considered, for her to be doing this because of a deal. The hundreds of years on the other hand, that seems to be a mystery she isn't intent on solving for him at the moment.

As for the second part of her statement, he isn't about to defend his grandfather. Benefiting from a deal with the devil and pushing off the consequences on someone else is remarkably consistent with everything Robin knows about the man. He considers, briefly, pressing her further, but given the fact that she seems to hate him significantly less right now, he'll save that for another time.

"In that case you look incredible for your age," he says, not intending to be flirtatious but when his playful once-over that turns less than innocent as he takes her in, it's hard not to let his words follow suit.

She brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, a hint of a smile ghosting over her lips.

"Wait until you see the person we're meeting. He's got millennia on me," she demurs, starting a little unsteady as she brushes him off but quickly veering back into purely platonic territory.

He follows her lead, and switches the topic.

"So Cruella Feinberg is actually an escaped soul from hell? You know I actually don't find that hard to believe," he says leadingly, giving her the opportunity to redirect their conversation.

Nodding her head in assent, she finally fills him in.

"Her real name was Eleanor Smith. She killed her father, two step-fathers, and eventually her mother in the 1920s. One of her many rich husbands eventually caught her with a lover and killed them both." She says it all matter-of-factly, but there's a gleam in her eye that suggests she's enjoying the salaciousness just a little. He _mhm_ s, and she continues. "I was there, in London, when she died." He stores away that tidbit away for future use, or at least for his own curiosity about Regina. "It was _quite_ the scandal."

That seems to cover Cruella so after a brief awkward pause, he turns his attention to the man (creature?) they're heading towards. She's surprisingly receptive, giving him minimal sass as he plies her with questions.

By the time they reach a small boat with _Jolly Roger_ written across the side he's learned that demons are closer to the Ancient Greek concept he's never heard of and plans to google later than his stereotype who aren't inherently evil, cannot possess people, and do not have horns (that particular fact accompanied by an eye roll and a murmured _so gullible_ ).

Regina proceeds onto the boat without much of a warning, effortlessly finding the stairs and unlocked door leading to a small cabin.

When they descend, there's a blue-eyed, dark-haired, handsome man sitting in a plush red chair drinking straight from a bottle of what, based on the smell and the labels of the other empty bottles littered around, appears to be rum. He doesn't seem to register their arrival, only looking up when Regina clears her throat.

It takes the man a few seconds to respond, blinking rapidly as though coming out of a stupor before he breaks into a wide grin.

"Regina love it's been almost two hundred years. I had no idea you kept tabs on me."

His words are a little slurred at the beginning but grow stronger as he speaks.

Robin tries to the let the whole _two hundred years_ thing roll off of him, reminding himself that this is his new reality.

"This is not a social call," she replies, clearly unamused.

The man stands up and, while a little unsteady on his feet, makes his way across the room until he's in Regina's personal space.

"Don't tell me you're still mad," he says, attempting to twirl a lock of her short hair around his finger until she unceremoniously slaps his hand away.

"Of course I am. You can play innocent and bat your eyelashes at me all you want. I'm not some easily manipulated little girl."

She's calmer, more calculated in her words than with Emma. Whether because of the temporal distance between what happened between the two or its nature, her temper is far more in check.

The man shoots him an exasperated look, his desire for someone to commiserate clear, but Robin is smart enough to avert his eyes and avoid getting involved.

"I'll tell you now what I told you back then love. Even if I knew she would leave her fiancé for me, which I did not, I never could have predict that she would try to stab you," he contends as though they aren't discussing attempted murder. Robin can feel his eyebrows shoot up, though neither Regina nor the demo -no she said he isn't supposed to call them that, has been doing a good job remembering it's unfairly pejorative- _man_ is paying him any attention.

"You're just lucky I haven't stabbed you yet," she mutters, fixing him with a glare that would unsettle even the toughest of people. The man is uncowed but based on the dynamic Robin has seen so far, he would imagine this man has been on the receiving end of that death stare many times before.

"Glad to see you haven't lost your charm and social grace," he says with a wink.

She rolls her eyes but otherwise completely ignores the man's droll words.

"Is it still Killian or are you going by something different these days?" she asks, apparently ready to move on from banter.

"Indeed. Jones this time. Has a nice ring to it, wouldn't you agree?" She glares at Killian agan. And you love?" he finishes, losing the flirtation in his voice to mirror her businesslike tone.

"Regina Mills," she says flatly.

"Your mother would be so pleased," he immediately volleys back, something darker in his voice, aiming to wound, suggesting a more contentious history than Robin had initially assumed.

Regina flinches, almost imperceptibly but he and Killian both register it though his concern is diametrically opposed to Killian's satisfaction.

Killian and Regina share a long look that he can't interpret, as though having a silent conversation only the two of them can understand. He files all of this away as something to ask her about if they ever move beyond this stage of her merely tolerating him.

She recovers quickly recovers to provide the introductions.

"Robin, Killian. Killian, Robin. Now that we're all acquainted tell me everything I need to know about escaped souls," she says, tone harder than before.

"Is that what he has you doing now? He must hate you almost as much as he hates me," he replies, softer despite the apparent harshness of the words, functioning more as an olive branch than continuing the previous attack.

She smirks and her answer is at the very least less vitriolic than before.

"I will never understand what women find appealing about you."

Killian's eyes light up and he takes another step into Regina's space.

"You seemed to be _deeply_ understanding when we last met," Killian says suggestively, raising an eyebrow.

Robin is bracing himself for another outburst but clearly he shouldn't get into the business of predicting Regina because she's far from perturbed.

"Vibrators hadn't been invented yet," Regina responds dryly, shrugging her shoulders.

Killian lets out a brief chuckle.

"Your quips have been sorely missed love."

Though his tone is sarcastic, there's a hint of warmth that undercuts the bite.

"Wish I could say the same for you Captain Morgan," she says, eyes drifting to the half-empty bottle Killian was drinking when they arrived.

"If that's the best you have to offer, I'm not sure your scathing remarks will be a match for the powers the souls possess," he retorts, smug.

For the first time, at least judging by her silence, Regina is thrown off.

"If you are trying to be clever right now I have no qualms about relieving you of another appendage," she finally snaps back.

It's only then Robin notices the well-disguised prosthetic where Killian's left hand apparently used to be.

Not acknowledging her threat, Killian sits back down and flirtatiously says, "you know where to find me when you need me, _however_ you need me," followed by a swig of rum.

Regina rolls her eyes, and despite the apparent uselessness of his presence, Robin can recognize a cue to leave. He leads the way up the stairs and off of the boat.

"He seems-" he starts hesitantly before Regina interjects.

"He's a cocky pain in the ass who doesn't know how to speak without an innuendo but he's loyal. If we need him, Killian will help us."

She's defensive when she speaks, almost inviting him to argue with her.

"If you trust him, that's good enough for me," he reassures, and when she turns to him, her mouth is slightly agape and her eyes are roving over his face like she's searching for something. Whatever it is, she must find it because she eventually manages a tentative _good_.

He repeats it back to her and then voices what he's been considering since their car ride, "if that's all for today, I'd like to take my bow to the archery range for some practice."

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this," she replies skeptically.

He can feel the first flares of irritation start up within him, but she clearly doesn't know much about archery so his response is deliberately more patient than his impulses demand.

"It's a new bow. If you want me to be able to hit anything, I have to get used to it," he reasons and despite a raised eyebrow, she begins to acquiesce.

"I'm not supposed to let you have the bow without me," she says, wavering.

While he never thought to factor her in to this plan, there is something appealing about turning the tables and finally letting Regina be as out of her element as he's been for these past few hours.

"Then I guess," the realization dawning on him, "we'll need to get our story straight before you meet my friends."

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

He's already decided to lie to his friends, to keep them out of the mess his life has become in the less than twelve hours since he last saw them. So the easiest course of action would be to pick a range far away from anyone he knows. And yet here he is, standing in front of Sherwood Forest Archery, staring at John's ridiculous _don't nock it til you try it_ slogan on the window. A part of him just wants to be back on his own turf, to let the familiar replace the constant uncertainty of this day, consequences be damned.

He takes a few moments to collect himself and pushes open the door.

Relief washes over Robin when he sees only Alan behind the counter, John nowhere to be found. It isn't as though he _wants_ to lie to Alan, but it would be exponentially harder to do so to his oldest and closest friend.

However that relief is short-lived when Regina walks up next to him and a wide grin spreads over Alan's face while his eyes light up. It hadn't occurred to him that his friends would think - well he hadn't really put much thought into Regina in this situation at all, save for hiding his true connection to her. They're a tight knit group, by no means hostile to new people, but it _is_ out of the norm to see any of them with someone their circle hasn't at least _heard_ about.

"Robin! I didn't expect to see you today," he says brightly.

"Couldn't sleep," he lies, shrugging. "And how's John?" he deflects.

"Suffering," Alan replies with all of the satisfaction of someone who had tried more than once to cut John off and been repeatedly shut down by the man himself. "And who's your friend here?" he continues, in possibly the worst attempt at casual Robin has ever heard.

Regina reacts by taking a step away from him and he immediately feels the loss of her body heat (which means they probably _were_ standing a bit too close, which however does _not_ mean anything to anyone but Alan).

Robin shoots his friend a disapproving look that hardly seems to deter him and responds, "Alan, this is Regina. She's looking to get a bow off of her hands, and is graciously letting me try it out before buying it."

Their plausible cover story does nothing to dampen his friend's enthusiasm.

"So great to meet you Regina," Alan says while giving him a meaningful look. "Robin and I will head into the office while you take a seat and read over the safety protocol."

He could refuse, probably should, but that would only convince Alan further than his mistaken assumption is true so he doesn't object.

"Oh I'm not doing any shooting," she replies, looking like a deer in headlights, seemingly a bit on edge now that she's no longer the one in control.

"It's just standard procedure. We'll be back in just a moment," he says eagerly enough to make Robin wonder if it _is_ just standard procedure or an excuse to interrogate him about Regina.

He shoots a sympathetic look to a none-too-pleased Regina, who at his non-verbal apology softens slightly and gives him the smallest possible reassuring smile, and follows Alan through the door.

As soon as they're alone his friend turns to him practically vibrating with excitement.

"She seems nice," Alan starts leadingly.

She hadn't really given any indication of that in the short time they've been here, but he knows the words are merely an invitation for him to speak.

"There's nothing going on. I barely know her," he defends, at least able to tell the truth in this matter. In some ways, though inconvenient, Alan coming to the wrong conclusion may be the best outcome for him.

"You can tell me it's nothing Robin but I haven't seen you with a woman since-"

And at the point Robin feels he has to interrupt and defend himself because "you've seen me with plenty of women since then."

Alan simply raises an eyebrow.

"Spending time with your friends is not what I'm talking about and you damn well know it," he says back impatiently. "And no matter what you say, I think it's great that you're spending time with someone you're so _obviously_ attracted to," he baits, and it nearly works because Robin can't deny the truth, especially since he doesn't know if _is_ just obvious or Alan is merely testing the waters. So instead of responding he pulls out his wallet, knowing it will instantly change the conversation's course.

"How many times do I have to tell you that your money's no good here?" Alan asks, rhetorically most likely, but they've had this disagreement so frequently that Robin simply ignores intent.

Placing the bills down on the counter he gives his standard answer.

"Apparently as many times as I have to tell _you_ that you can't stop me from paying," he replies, refusing to break eye contact.

Alan backs down first, as he always does, looking away and sighing dramatically.

"Hey if it was up to me, we'd be getting rich off of you, but John won't stop insisting," he says with put upon exasperation. "And I figure since you introduced us in the first place, you wouldn't want our marriage to collapse over something so trivial," he teases with a clap on Robin's shoulder.

His friends are far too kind, too generous and it is one of the things he hates (loves) most about them. Often when they get into this argument, John and Alan rightfully point out that if the roles were reversed he would do the same. And yet he knows they could always use the money, especially now that they're looking into adopting, so he persists.

"Well consider this a bribe to stay out of my _nonexistent_ ," he emphasizes, "love life," he finishes, pushing the money closer to Alan.

This both does and does not have the intended effect.

"There isn't enough money in the world my friend," Alan replies with a laugh, pushing the money right back.

"Convincing my best friends to get married was the worst mistake of my life," he grumbles, feigning annoyance.

To his surprise, Alan's tone turns sincere.

"We were pretty fond of it ourselves," he says sadly and as it often does, it hits Robin that he is not the only one still impacted by Marian's loss.

"I guess it wasn't so bad," he answers, voice thick with emotion, memories of those years playing in the back of his mind.

"We just want you to be happy. _She_ would want that too."

He and Alan both blink back tears, and he wonders if talking about this will ever stop feeling like reopening a barely stitched up wound for any of them.

"I know. And I truly do appreciate that." They're silent for a moment until Robin puts the money back into his wallet. "You two are getting free drinks for a very long time, no arguments," he insists, both of them letting out a relieved laugh at the broken tension.

With one last affectionate squeeze to Robin's shoulder and an ambiguous y _ou know what you're doing_ , Alan opens the door and allows Robin to follow him out.

While he is hesitant about subjecting Regina to Alan's overt attempts to create something between them, he has little choice but to grab the bow and begin practicing.

It takes him a few shots to get in the swing of it, but once he starts hitting targets his worries about Alan and Regina melt away.

Little relaxes him quite like archery, so by the time he is confident in his mastery of the bow, he feels far more at peace with this absurd day and more than ever determined to make the best of his new task.

He walks back to the waiting room to Alan's fragmented "- and then Rob- oh hey man."

Regina doesn't look nearly as desperate to leave as he'd feared so he'll have to call this a win.

After he and Alan say their goodbyes, along with some birthday well wishes from Alan and hangover well wishes to be passed on to John, he follows Regina out.

For a few blocks they don't speak, for him at least out of some paranoia that his friends will somehow hear.

"I'm sorry if whatever Alan said-" he starts before switching gears "he thinks he's being a good friend."

Regina smiles, genuine and with no trace of scorn, and answers his unasked question.

"He talked about his band a bit, talked you up _a lot_ ," she says teasingly. "I mean how else would I have known that you donate blood every three months?"

He's unable to stop himself from cringing, the thought Alan pitching him to Regina too embarrassing to think about.

"Sorry I thought I dissuaded him but clearly I wasn't as effective as I assumed."

"It's not like I'll be seeing much of him so it hardly matters," she points out. And to Robin's surprise, her words don't act as the reassurance that it should, leaving him feeling something uncomfortable that he can't quite identify.

They stand there in awkward silence for a few moments more, neither sure what to say or do, until Regina speaks.

"So unless you need a ride back," he shakes his head, "I should get going," she finishes brusquely.

Before Robin can say anything else she turns and begins to walk away. She's only taken a few steps when something dawns on him.

"Wait," she turns back to him, lips pursed and annoyance flashing in her eyes," how will I know when Emma uh finds her?"

She walks back briskly, digging around in her bag for her phone. He easily pulls his out of his pocket and they quickly trade numbers.

When they're both finished, Regina opens her mouth as if to say something else, but apparently thinks better of it as she closes her mouth, nods, and leaves.

* * *

As the next week goes by, things return surprisingly close to normal.

Robin spends Sunday constantly checking his phone, convinced that at any moment he'll get the text from Regina and have to hunt down Cruella Feinberg. Mulan, Ruby, and Mer start to shoot each other concerned looks at work when he steals a few seconds to look at his phone one too many times, but no one says anything directly.

As the days go by, this entire endeavor seems less… imminent. He falls back into his routine of going to work, spending time with his friends, volunteering at the homeless shelter Tuck manages, and watching Netflix. When John texts him and Mer to confirm that they still want to pick up some extra cash and teach at the kids' archery camp this summer, he only hesitates for a moment before responding that in an expensive city like Boston _of course_ he needs the extra income. As far as he's concerned the damn… well _damned_ souls can wait until he can make rent to be caught.

The only real change is the amount of times he starts and then erases texts to Regina. He can justify it as thinking they should get to know each other if they're going to be spending so much time together in the foreseeable future but the truth is that he's drawn to her in some inexplicable way.

On Wednesday at 11:45 am he is off from work, a little bored, and a little high, so he finally sends out the _care for a drink?_ that's been sitting on his phone since Sunday. It's probably an ill-timed attempt to spend time with her as evidenced by her _I don't daytime_ reply twenty minutes later that he doesn't know whether to write off as a temporary or permanent rejection. She doesn't respond when he texts _perhaps some evening then_ back, which isn't the best sign but it does quell his desire to text her for the time being.

* * *

He doesn't hear from her again until the following Tuesday, only a second from leaving the blessed air conditioning of Sherwood and facing the summer heat. He's been occupied for the past few hours teaching children how to hold bows and nock arrows, a both exhilarating and exhausting process. He loves spending time with kids, loves passing on a hobby he enjoys so much, but it's bittersweet knowing he will never get to do so with his and Marian's own children. It leaves him craving a distraction, itching to be consumed by something. He has a perfectly inconvenient amount of free time this afternoon, with a few hours left before his shift at the bar but not enough time to get out of the city and hike.

He goes to double check his work schedule, half-contemplating texting Mulan and asking her if he can just start early when he sees Regina's text. Its timing is ironically miraculous, considering the opposing nature of what it signals.

The message, sent less than an hour before, simply reads _Emma found her_.

Robin hastens his departure, and as soon as he's sufficiently far, he pulls back out his phone.

"What took you so long?" she hisses out after the second ring.

He rolls his eyes and takes a few deep breaths before replying, letting go of the urge to snap at her. He isn't normally this easy to rile but it appears Regina is uniquely qualified to do so.

"Working."

She huffs out a loud breath but doesn't berate him. She quickly explains that Emma's found the hotel Cruella's staying in and despite covering up her signature black and white hair with blonde dye, the private investigator is sure it's her.

And so he finds himself stuffed in the back seat of an impractically bright yellow bug, idly chatting with Emma about the Red Sox while Regina glares forwards and makes a concerted effort to neither look at nor speak to either of them. They have a perfect view of the hotel lobby but there are no signs of her entering or exiting.

Hours pass, they move on to Stranger Things and the ins and outs of being a PI, but still Cruella doesn't appear. The hours and then minutes to his shift tick down until he regretfully admits "I'm sorry but I have to get going."

He and Emma exchange cordial _see you later_ s, while Regina continues to scowl at him via the rear view mirror, he assumes either angry that he's leaving most of the waiting around for her or that she's been confined with Emma after everything that's happened between them.

He makes what he considers a valiant attempt to remain focused at work while discreetly texting Regina in an attempt to gain updates. Each text gets a little read receipt almost immediately, but not one receives a response. And although he would prefer to hear it from Regina herself, he can deduce that if any progress had been made she wouldn't be checking her messages so frequently.

As soon as the clock strikes eleven, he calls Regina. And when she doesn't pick up he calls her two more times. He's standing a few blocks from the bar, regretting not getting Emma's number so they could avoid this entire situation when he gets a text from Regina.

 _Come find us, stop being so annoying._

* * *

When he makes his way back to the bug, both Regina and Emma look a little worse for wear after spending so many hours in the cramped car together.

Regina turns around when he knocks on Emma's window and almost looks pleased to see him, a function of boredom more than any actual fondness he's sure.

"So how was your-" Emma starts when he gets into the bug and then stops, going from slouching to upright, her right hand moving to the gear shift. And despite the obviousness of it, she tells them, "that's her."

He follows Emma's line of sight to a pretty blonde in a simple black dress. She's unassuming, someone he'd never have recognized as the fur-draped, harshly made up Cruella Feinberg. Without the crazy hair and the overdrawn eyebrows, she has a disarming softness incompatible with the woman Robin's seen on the news. It's a perfect disguise and only now that he's looking for it does he connect the angularity of the woman he sees with the one he's heard of.

A black midsize sedan, an Uber he'd bet, pulls up in front the hotel's doors and Cruella gets in the back seat. As the car pulls away, Emma, preceded by a warning "buckle up" skillfully follows the car as it weaves through the traffic. He can't figure an obvious destination, and as they get farther and farther, he grows more confused. And apparently he isn't the only one getting antsy.

"We've been driving for twenty minutes already," Regina complains, though Robin suspects that it has more to do with her frustration at spending the hours prior waiting around then the current drive.

But as if by magic, Cruella's Uber starts to slow down, heading towards the Franklin Park Zoo parking lot as soon as the words leave her mouth.

Emma looks at him with an eyebrow raising in question, but he shakes his head, also having no idea why she would be at a zoo that's been closed for hours.

Cruella makes her way in, easily passing by the sleeping security guard. Emma holds up a hand in warning, waiting until Cruella is far enough away to start following.

"Emma wait," he whispers just after they enter, "there's something we need to tell you."

Regina's shaking her head at him but at some point he'll be shooting arrows and he'd prefer Emma not call her friends in the police department when he does.

He gives her the quickest summary he can of the events of his birthday and who Cruella really is, feeling crazy as he says it all out loud.

Emma looks to Regina, and at her lack of reaction stops in her tracks.

"You two are insane," she says a bit too loud, to which he and Regina emit simultaneous _shhh_ 's.

He can't blame that impulse in the slightest so against his internal frantic need for her to get onboard he does the best impression of logical and calm he can manage in such a situation.

"I know that's how it sounds but it's true and she may have powers so we really need to-" he starts, carefully measuring his words, but pauses when he notices Cruella stop. She's far enough away where their whispers aren't likely to be heard, but the reality of the situation necessitates that they figure out a plan.

"Give me the bow. I'll hit her before she even notices we're here," he says to Regina, careful to keep his voice just audible to the two women next to him.

Regina gives her head a little half shake, and makes no delay translating the disapproval he sees in her eyes into words.

"That is a terrible plan," she spits out. "When you miss, she'll be prepared. We should engage her and attack when she's distracted."

It's not that she's proposing a _bad_ plan, even if he thinks it's the wrong approach, but the derision with which she dismisses him triggers his tempter in a way he would never have expected.

"I won't miss. Why can't you just trust that I may actually have a worthy idea?" he snaps back, struggling to keep his voice down.

While he and Regina continue to bicker, Cruella turns around. They're quick to hide behind some trees, quick enough that she couldn't have spotted them, but she knows they're there and thus their advantage is gone.

Instead of coming towards them, she stalks towards the lions' cage. He looks at Regina and Emma but he sees his own confusion mirrored in their faces.

They all watch anxiously as she walks right up to the glass and breathes out green. While the lions remain asleep as the breath reaches them, green apparitions rise. The animal _ghosts_ \- for lack of better explain action at the moment - look to Cruella, who simply gestures in their direction lazily.

The lions begin to run and easily cover the few hundred feet between the enclosure and their hiding place. Before they have any time to process what's just happened, Robin finds himself pounced on, paws pressing him to the ground. It feels as though claws are really digging into him, but when he looks down there is no blood.

He glances over at Emma to see her struggling as he is to get out from under the lions but Regina simply lies there, resigned to their fate.

Cruella saunters over to them and Robin is sure this is how they'll all die, and yet she makes no move to hurt them.

"Well darlings, this is where I take my leave," Cruella drawls. "I suggest you take my mercy and remember that if you come for me again, it will not be given."

The sound of Cruella's footsteps grows more and more faint as he and Emma continue to fight their mammalian captors. Eventually it comes as close to silence as one can get in Boston and the lions dissipate along with the noise.

Tentatively, he puts his palms to the ground, testing his ability to push up. When he encounters no resistance, Robin gingerly gets up, hyperaware of the pain on his entire back side.

While Emma quickly follows him to her feet, Regina teeters on her heels before falling back to the ground. On instinct he reaches out a hand. She considers it doubtfully for a moment until ultimately reaching her hand out in return and allowing Robin to pull her up.

It's the first time he's touched her and it takes him a moment too long to drop her hand, something Regina strangely does not object to. Immediately Regina busies herself smoothing over her dress (practical in its black color but not in any other way) and brushing off any dirt, not sparing him a second glance.

"I guess you guys aren't crazy after all," Emma concedes a little unsteadily.

He gives Emma a cursory nod in response and without discussion they begin to make their way back to the parking lot.

He purposefully falls into step with Regina, who he assumes has deliberately set a pace slower than Emma.

"We need a better plan next time," she mutters almost to herself, startling slightly when he responds.

"At least now we have the advantage of knowing what we're up against," he reasons.

"Well aren't you an optimist."

They're out of the zoo and nearing Emma's car before he speaks again.

"We're going to have to trust each other if we ever want to succeed," he says, voice lowered enough that Emma can't hear.

"Trust is earned," she replies immediately, and he can feel the weight behind that belief. While in his life he's found the opposite to be true, that _distrust_ is earned, he understands why for most people that may not be the case. So he doesn't argue the point.

"Be that as it may, we have to start somewhere. And I think getting to know each other is as good a place as any," he suggests, keeping his tone casual and trying not to sound too hopeful. Because there is something about her that draws him in, that makes him _want_ to know her.

She doesn't dismiss him outright as he feared she might, instead cautiously asking, "And how do you suggest we do that?"

"Well you _do_ still owe me that drink," he answers, a hint of teasing in his tone, unsure if pushing the issue was the right move.

She doesn't say anything now that they've reached the car nor during the ride to the closest T stop but right before go their separate ways, she gives her answer.

"I suppose I do," she says and for a moment he honestly has no idea what she's talking about, "owe you that drink," she clarifies and he can't help the wide grin that breaks out on his face. She rolls her eyes at him, but when she says, "good night Robin," there's something like fondness in her voice. She doesn't wait for a response from him, simply turns and walks away.

And while they may not have accomplished their task, Robin thinks that perhaps things couldn't have turned out better.


End file.
